


Warming Up

by Paganpunk2



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Cold Weather, Flash Fic, Invitation to Sleep Over, M/M, Male Homosexuality, New Relationship, Slice of Life, Snow, Sullivan Hates Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29901693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paganpunk2/pseuds/Paganpunk2
Summary: A bit of snow and bitter cold are exactly what Sid and Sullivan need to help their new relationship warm up.
Relationships: Sid Carter/Inspector Sullivan
Kudos: 17
Collections: Early Days, Flash Slash, Slice of Life





	Warming Up

It had been snowing when he’d laid down last night, not hard, but steady. Sullivan paused before his bedroom curtains and steeled himself. Then, disbelieving but hopeful, he looked outside.

Of course. Of _course_ the Wolseley was blanketed in three inches of white powder, just like the rest of the world. Of course it had been too much to ask that the temperature rise while he slept and turn the snow into simple rain. God, he hated snow. Messy, cold, inconvenient...there was nothing good about it.

Fine. He’d clear the bloody car off, but only because he didn’t have much of a choice. He supposed he could walk to work and send one of the constables to fetch it, but that would look lazy. It was better to do the dirty work himself and go to the station annoyed but with his reputation unblemished.

But first, a shower. He refused to deal with anything that wasn’t an emergency until he’d showered. Putting the clearing-off aside for twenty minutes wouldn’t make the task any worse, since the snow had mercifully stopped at some point before he woke. He had time.

Muttering to himself, Sullivan turned away from the window and headed for the bathroom.

* * *

The hot water wasn’t half as relaxing as it should have been. Normally Sullivan savored his showers. They were a world of near-perfect control. He could make the temperature whatever he wanted; there was no need to worry about looking professional; and all possible interruptions were blocked out by the pounding spray and the closed curtain. In the shower, he could briefly be alone with himself.

Alone with himself, except for when he couldn’t keep his mind from straying to matters beyond the narrow porcelain bounds of his tub. All he could think about today was how cold it must be outside compared to his steamy bathroom, how many layers he was going to have to put on to be even remotely warm while he did the brushing-off (too many, enough that he would end up sweating by the end and then feel as if he hadn’t showered at all), how bad the roads might be. This last thought brought up the worst prospect of all; Sid.

On any other day, thinking of Sid while he was in the shower would have been pleasant. Their relationship was mere weeks old, and they hadn’t yet had time for anything more than a few soul-searching kisses and a bit of groping, but that hadn’t prevented Sullivan from fantasizing about their future first night together. That first night might never happen if the roads really _were_ bad and Sid had been out on them yesterday evening. It was the height of the social season, a fact that Sullivan knew thanks to the invitations he kept receiving for Lady Felicia’s dinners and balls and soirees. If she’d insisted on attending some function despite the snow...

He was being ridiculous, he chastised himself silently as he dried off and dressed. The Countess wasn’t an idiot. If the roads had proved bad after they’d started off, she would have had Sid turn around. And the roads might not even _be_ bad, especially for an experienced driver. It wasn’t something one could tell with a single glance out the window. So, until he had more evidence, there was no point in worrying.

Despite his own sound advice, his fretting only ceased when he walked into the kitchen. “...Oh. Ah...hello. I mean...good morning?” Sid looked up from the hob he was huddled above and raised his eyebrows in anticipation. “I don’t know what I mean,” Sullivan babbled. “What...what are you doing?”

“Thought it might be nice t-to feel my hands again,” Sid chattered back. “Bleedin’ cold out. Think it got t-t-too cold to snow more. ‘S why it stopped.”

“Can it do that?” Sullivan’s brows drew together. “Get too cold to snow?”

“Yeah. J-Jesus...d’you have a blanket or something?”

Sullivan shook himself. It was a surprise to come downstairs and find his new...well, boyfriend, he supposed, since that was generally the term you applied to a man you’d kissed a few times and would very much like to kiss again...in his house, but that was no excuse for letting him freeze. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.”

His warmest quilt was on the bed. He dashed upstairs for it, then returned to find Sid with his fingers all but in the flames under the kettle. “Stop that,” he ordered, pulling him back from the cooktop. “Come over here and sit while I make tea.”

“I wasn’t gonna burn myself,” Sid argued as he sat down. “I’ve had a bit of practice, you know.”

Sullivan frowned as he wrapped the blanket around Sid’s shoulders. “Tell me you didn’t spend all night like that up at the caravan.”

“Nah. Knew it was too cold for there last night. I stayed at the House.”

His frown deepened. “Then why are you already in town at five thirty in the morning?”

“Church boiler. It needs a kick sometimes when it gets deep cold like this. Came down to check on it.”

“Surely there aren’t services today? It’s Thursday.”

“Yeah, but if it stays cold there might be some who ask to sleep there a night or two. Plenty of folks around without central heat.” He grinned, and Sullivan was pleased to note that his teeth had stopped chattering. “Like me, though I usually warrant at least the presbytery sofa if there aren’t too many older people who need a place. Might be, in this. But the pews are alright, too, once you learn how to lay on them without cramping up.”

Sullivan scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. There’s no need for you to sleep on a hard church pew when I have a perfectly good bed upstairs.”

He realized what he’d said as soon as the last word left his lips. “Can’t take it back,” Sid smirked at him as he opened his mouth to...not _correct_ himself, because he did have a perfectly good bed upstairs and he certainly didn’t mind the idea of sharing it with Sid, but...something. “Is that where this came from?” Sid tucked his nose into the quilt and took a deep breath without breaking eye contact. “...Mm. Smells good. Like you. Sleepy you.”

Sullivan turned his face away, ostensibly to pour their tea but really to hide his blush. “I think you may be having hypothermia-induced hallucinations.”

“And I think that’s the worst deflection I’ve ever heard,” Sid chuckled. “Nice to know I already rate something better than your sofa. Though I don’t know how much sleep we’ll get once we can finally crawl under the same covers.” His smirk grew. “Maybe it’ll stay cold forever. Think we can arrange that?”

“You know we can’t.”

“However much we might like to?” Sid prompted.

Yes, but Sullivan had already said too much. Instead of answering, he handed Sid a steaming cup. “Here, drink this.”

Neither spoke for a minute while they sipped their tea. “...Your car might not start,” Sid remarked eventually. “Mine didn’t.”

Sullivan’s eyes widened. “It's that cold, and you _walked_ from the House?!”

“Didn’t fly, did I? Anyway, the roads are rubbish. We had to turn back on the way to Lady Natten’s dinner party.”

“So you _were_ out driving last night.”

“Yeah. Wait...” Sid peered across the table at him. “Were you...?” A slow smile appeared. “You were worried. Aw.”

“It’s my duty to be concerned about the well-being of every citizen. Even you.”

“Sure, but we both know you weren’t worrying about me as _Inspector_ Sullivan.”

“Well...perhaps not entirely, no.”

“Or at all,” Sid added easily. He took a deep drink, then stood, leaving the quilt behind. “If you do end up walking to work, bundle up. I’m not joking that it’s cold.”

“Wait, what...where are you going? At least finish your tea.”

“Can’t. Like I said, I have to get to the church. The Father’s probably already expecting me. I only stopped here to brush down your car. I just needed a second inside before I kept going.”

Sullivan stared at him, flabbergasted. “You cleaned off the car for me?” It must have been while he was showering. “In the cold?”

“‘Course. Seemed like the kind of thing you’d hate doing yourself, so...yeah.”

Now Sullivan rose, too, and closed the gap between them. “Sid, I...ah...thank you. That...I appreciate that.”

“Well, I’ll keep that appreciation in mind.” Sid nudged Sullivan’s chin up with one finger – God, his hands were still chilly, even after holding the hot teacup – and kissed him. “...And your offer earlier, too?”

Sullivan gulped and nodded. “Yes. It stands.”

“Then I’ll see you later, no matter what the temperature is.”

He watched Sid slip out of the cottage, then sat back down to finish his tea. Maybe, he thought, he could give the snow credit for _one_ good thing...


End file.
